


Not Okay

by cestlestialbeings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Azazel (referenced) - Freeform, Episode: s02e02 Everybody Loves a Clown, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John Winchester (referenced) - Freeform, Rape Aftermath, Shame, Traumatized Dean Winchester, content warning - shame over being victimized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 17:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlestialbeings/pseuds/cestlestialbeings
Summary: When Dean and Sam faced the yellow-eyed demon a week ago, Dean was wounded and raped by the demon in John's body. Dean insists he's okay now. Sam knows he's not.Sequel to lamprophony's "don't you let it (kill me)" which you should definitely read first, both for context and also because it's really good.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Not Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [don't you let it (kill me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507898) by [lamprophony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamprophony/pseuds/lamprophony). 



Dean doesn’t remember much from that day. The yellow-eyed demon in his father’s body raping him. Shooting Dad in the leg. The demon escaping. And then passing out from the blood loss. When he woke up, Sam had tried to pick a fight with John while Dean had sat in his hospital bed, staring at his hands in his lap. He couldn’t bear to look at John. Not after what had happened.

After Sam had left, John left a folded note on the nightstand next to Dean. “I love you, Dean. And I’m sorry,” he’d said with a sigh, and then left, giving Dean his space. Knowing that Dean was recovering, not just from his injuries, but from the overwhelming psychological harm that he’d experienced.

And then Dad had died.

Now, Dean’s under the Impala, fixing up the nearly totaled car while the words from the letter that he’d read a hundred times go through his head again and again. _I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you._

His dad is dead because of him, and his memories of the man are irreparably tainted by what the demon did. He knows it had been the demon and not John, he knows the experience had traumatized his dad almost as much as it had him, but whenever John’s face floats into his mind, he feels revulsion and fear. He hates it. He hates that those feelings are going to be associated with his father forever.

“Dean,” he hears. Dean sighs. Sam.

He pushes himself out from underneath the car and stands up.

“What?” he asks.

“How are you doing?”

“Just great,” Dean says, wiping the grease on his hands onto a rag.

“Need anything?”

“No,” Dean says.

Sam hesitates and then says, “How are you feeling?”

“I told you I’m fine,” Dean says. He meets Sam’s eyes and holds his gaze steady, even though every part of him wants to look away. He keeps seeing Sam, watching Dean as Yellow-Eyes pulled down Dean’s jeans, exposed him, humiliated him. Sam, having to see him being degraded like that. _Don’t look, Sammy_ , he’d said, but Sam’s eyes had remained fixed on the scene in front of him, filled with horror.

Another heavy silence. “We should talk about what happened.”

“No,” Dean says, and he finally turns away. He can’t talk about it. It’s been stuck in his head all week, replaying over and over and over. Talking about it will make it real, and he’s not ready for that. He might never be ready for that. “I’m fine. I'm okay. Really. I promise.”

Sam sighs. “You’re not, Dean.” Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean jerks away, heart pounding hard at the contact.

“ _Don’t_ touch me,” he says, his voice coming out more fearful than angry.

Sam steps back, with that stupid kicked-puppy look on his face.Sam takes a deep breath, his face shifting to a gentle expression, like he’s afraid he'll break Dean if he makes the wrong move or says the wrong thing. He takes a few steps back, giving Dean some space.

“It’s just—” Sam starts to say, but Dean interrupts him.

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t need to talk about it. I’m fucking _fine_.” His voice comes out harsher than he intended.

“Fine. But _I_ need to talk about it. Because…Because he…” Sam swallows. “Fuck, man. I’m so sorry,” he says, and his voice cracks. “It was my fault. He did that to you because of me. If I just… I don’t know, if I’d just done something different…”

“He did it because he’s a sadistic fuck,” Dean says. “Okay? This isn’t on you. He did it to hurt you, and to hurt Dad, because we got in his way.”

“Me and Dad weren’t really the victims in this,” Sam says, his voice soft. Slow. Careful.

And he’s right, isn’t he? Dean was the one whose chest had been torn by demonic energy, the one who’d been fucked raw into the floor, his Dad’s nails dragging down his back, hard enough to leave marks. A wave of shame washes over him and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. He feels like he’s drowning in it. He takes a deep breath but the feeling just intensifies.

 _A victim_ , Sam had said. Weak and afraid and crying. All of him exposed, body and soul. He knows there’s never going to be a point where Sam looks at him without pity, knowing that Dean is so fragile. So pathetic.

The tears start falling, sliding silently down his face.

“Dean…” Sam says. “Dean, talk to me.”

Dean lets out a sob and turns away. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand and leans back against the Impala. And then he’s sobbing for real, his whole body shaking, and he slides down so he’s sitting with his back against the car. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his arms. It’s too much. The grief and the shame and the guilt. He can’t bear it, but he has to.

He senses Sam sitting down next to him. Not talking, not trying to reassure Dean. Just a comforting presence next to him. Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t want Sam to see him like this, but at the same time, he needs Sam here. He needs to know he’s not alone, that someone can accept him even after what had happened.

Sam sits with him patiently for fifteen minutes, maybe more, staying quiet as Dean cries himself out until there’s no tears left.

He finally sniffs and wipes the rest of the tears away. He turns to Sam, gives him a wavering smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your shtick of being such a girl.”

“Dean,” Sam says, exasperated, rolling his eyes. He pauses, becoming serious again. “Hey. Are you gonna be okay?”

 _No._ “Yeah.”

“Good. I just want you to know I’m here, okay? Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” he says, and he means it. No matter how painful it will be to recover from the events of a week ago, he’s glad he doesn’t have to go through it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated. Concrit welcome as well. Thanks for reading!


End file.
